Blogspot - personal update

23RD April

I have been finding that I have been depending more and more on the TV to pass the evenings, so I asked our pastor if he could recommend some books I might find helpful. The first had a wonderful title, ‘The Happy Christian.’ Surely just what I needed? But no. Some of you will have already read of how God healed my broken heart by repeating his promises to me. ‘I am delighting myself in the Lord, and he is giving me the desires of my heart.’ 

Instead of sending my Mr. Right back to me, or one even better, God gave me a wonderful joy and contentment in my singleness until, when eventually Joel, my Mr. Right came along, we were able to enjoy more than 20 fruitful years together before I was able again to renounceself-pityand again declare, ‘I am delighting myself in the Lord and He is giving me the desire of my heart‘From supporting Joel in his pastoral ministry, and then his support of mewhen God called me to write, -yes, and the joy I have received as I have shared with the planting of Grace community church.

But what is my problem? Where has my happy Christian gone? 4 years ago, I was weeping bitterly when I found they had dragged me back from the gates of heaven. I had lived independently until then. I had thought I was ripe for heaven, but evidently not. 

I have been 3 years now in a Care home, where Joel and I used to come in to take a service. Now I have a different role, but God has not left me. I am still delighting myself in the Lord, and he is still giving me the desires of my heart. I have put away my ‘Happy Christian’ book, and now I am finding deep comfort from another, which our wise Pastor has also loaned to me, ‘Invest your suffering.’I am so grateful for those who still have the patience to continue to help me to write my blogspot as well as those wonderful friends who refuse to let me give up, and most of all for such a wonderful Saviour who has promised never to leave me or forsake me.

Children of the City - Part 3

Continuing the story - Children of the City

It took a while for the dust to settle and for Judah to realise how he and his friend had been so miraculously delivered from having become an offering to the god/ gods of the Ninevites. But where were they? And who had been busy caring for him and his companion? Bowls of stew had been placed nearby, and he could hear a chatter of children’s voices.

Every now and again they were aware of falling masonry, but they were protected by an overhanging shelf where these homeless children seemed to have found a refuge. Nobody seemed to be in pursuit of them now.

Judah and his friend were content to be fed and cared for by these friends of the ruins of Nineveh but little by little they regained their confidence and began to explore their surroundings, taking care to keep out of sight. But one evening, Judah was arrested by hearing a conversation that was in clear Hebrew, his own mother tongue.

Signalling to his friend, they crept closer but the summons must have been to call the lads indoors and the refugees knew they needed to scurry back to their own bolt hole, but not for too long.

Who were these speakers of Hebrew who were surviving within the great city of Nineveh?  Themselves still surviving through the kindness of these refugee lads, Judah and his friend returned each day to their hidden hiding place. But had they been discovered? How was it that a generous meal had been left for them each morning?

No longer having to live as scavengers, the mystery was unwrapped. First Judah and his friend
were taken to meet the lady of the house, now no longer a slave, but honoured as a beloved wife and trying to get accustomed to conversing in the language of the Ninevites.

February 2025

January 23rd - so here I am. Safely arrived at the great age of 94, and yes it really was my best birthday ever, and here I am in my lovely writing jacket, a belated gift from a night carer, and the gift of a quiet hour on my computer before my ‘Magic Margaret’ arrives to hopefully help me to walk safely for a coffee by the sea, and bringing with her my last minute requests for shopping.

Micha with his beautiful Liz  is now our assistant pastor, has  taken over now as my blog publisher and sorter out for a 94 year out with a not so good forgettery and he had printed out for me the loving greetings of many of my friends who had been family to me all those years ago in New Guinea as well as the precious new friends I am still finding joining our journey, in Grace church as well as this lovely Care Home.

But I have another family waiting in the wings, so time for us to travel now to the seashore of Joppa.

CHAPTER 2

Judith found she had a full-time job in steering her mother from falling into the slough of despair that surrounded her but having met some women who understood their language she felt free to leave her mother sitting, she couldn’t say chatting happily with them, but at least finding comfort in being able to share their griefs.

But Judith now found herself listening to a different story, - unbelievable, and yes, wonderful, - but yet, yes, so unbelievable that somehow, they could not but believe.

At last, she remembered her poor mother and hurried back to search for her.

They were living now in Joppa with her mother’s brother. He, a fisherman making a comfortable living there, but now all the talk is of a man, Jonah by name who it seems was seeking to get to some distant shore but instead of getting far away, had found himself brought back, rescued it seemed by some mighty fish.

The story was to be repeated over and over again, and though people pronounced it unbelievable, and impossible to believe yet somehow the terrible colour of his skin was evidence that he had indeed been in the belly of some great monster was testimony that he had indeed been swallowed for a considerable time and was willing to affirm his story.

‘Oh indeed,’ her mother affirmed.  ‘Your father knew him as a man of God. His word is not to be doubted. Indeed, I will take you myself to visit him, but I have other news to tell you and I am sure you will find this even more wonderful. Come, take me home and let me prepare our meal before I tell you, for it is news of your brother.’

Of course, neither of them could wait for a meal before they could share the wonderful news that a red-headed lad who could well be Judith’s twin had been sighted within the terrible city of Nineveh. Oh, was there indeed hope? Oh Lord! May it indeed be so?

January 2025

Alexa assures me we are in yet another New Year, and I am in a Care Home and in spite of every effort suffered yet another ‘drop’ through falling blood pressure which has left me in so much pain.

Yet here I am, aged 93,  fast approaching 94, the only one in my family to have lived to old age and still in my right mind, so I want to make the most of the abilities I have left and keep in touch with my friends.

Micha, our new assistant pastor in ‘Grace’ has offered to take over the actual publishing of my blog, so if God is giving me the gift of long life I must do something to fill my days. What else can I do but write?

Aged fifty, I had left the mission field and now married to Joel. It was then God called me to write. My husband gave me every encouragement. My tutor lived locally and I had no problem in getting published. I wrote stories based on my adventures abroad but as the days of Sunday Schools diminished so did the editors willing to publish my books.

No market now through the Christian Herald, but when a prominent Christian Publisher told me they had considered my latest book carefully and thought it worth self publishing, so I have taken this route. But now in a Care Home I can no longer afford, not have I the energy  to take this route.

Coming up to 94, I try of live an active life. Scrabble, through the kindness of caring friends , once a fortnight, Prayer meeting – my priority, and friends who hopefully will be still able to help me to walk down the road for a coffee? And our Luncheon Club at Gilgal, always a special blessing. But what about writing? For many years I have always had a book on the go.

I was advised to send my latest to someone who is into publishing, but meanwhile I am turning to my faithful blog readers. I am so grateful for my friends who will gently remind me that they look forward to news of me. So – I wonder if it might be acceptable to publish just a chapter of ‘Children of the city.’ Based on  yet another aspect of Jonah, maybe I could add a chapter to my   monthly blog?

 

CHILDREN OF THE CITY – INTRODUCTION

Most of us will have read the biblical version of Jonah and the Whale. Jesus himself refers to this strange and oft doubted story. If our Saviour believed it then why should we doubt? Rather I trust you may be blessed as I use my God given imagine to understand why the prophet had been so willing for the destruction of Nineveh.

The setting is hillside just north of Bethlehem. The child had been named ‘Joyful Praise’ by her father at birth, but her mother found it very hard to call her that, for she was a twin, her brother and she with bright copper coloured hair so easily recognised.

But now their father is dead, slain by the terrible Ninevites. They were returning  from tending his grave. There had been no sign of her twin brother’s body though surely his distinctive hair would have made him unmissable? 

Mother and daughter found a sunlit nook where they could sit and eat the few grapes they had manages to collect from the burnt vines. And her mother turned over the paper in her hand. It was her daughter, Judith, who had read it to her once again, for her mother was unwilling to trust a woman, though she was her own daughter, for girls were not allowed in the synagogue school.

Judith did not hold it against the system in which she was brought up. She treasured the names which their father had given them.

‘Your uncle is a good man. He wants us to go to Joppa. He is doing well as one of a team of fishermen and has promised to look after us. But…..  ‘,Once again she was overwhelmed by her tears…

I apologise, faithful blog reader. Time to close this chapter, but don’t forget the wonderful name given to this young girl by her father. And remember her brother. Is it possible that  he is indeed still alive?  So what was he named?  

He was the first born, indeed the softly mewling tiny girl who followed her brother, had come as a surprise  to the proud parents. It had not taken the father long to name his son Judah, and so Judith was the inevitable choice for his beautiful and also red-headed little sister.

 I will have reached the great age of 94 before we follow Judith and her mother to the bustling port of Joppa. So please pray God will keep me in health so that together we may have a surprising encounter with a whale and a reluctant prophet.

Lots of love

Pauline

Hallucinations

I am so thankful to be in a praying church and I know it is through their prayers that I am trying to record this answer to your prayers.

I don’t know how it started, but I knew this intruder was evil. He was coming into my bedroom, hunting through my possessions. I guess to find my bank details, but I wasn’t worried, as my carer has taken care that no one else can access them, but as if in frustration, each time he would leave something unpleasant as if to show his spite.

I pressed my call button, but my lovely night nurse assured that it would be impossible for a man to get in the building. This was the biggest shock, that she did not believe me.

The next time he came as if to laugh at the way he was able to torment me, but I answered him boldly, ‘You don’t need to come here. You need Jesus.’ He vanished, when I spoke that Name and I know he will not return.

Our night nurse wisely took a urine sample and received some medication, confirming that I had a mild infection but the hallucinations continued.

I saw a beautiful young girl come into my room, but not through a door. Somehow I knew it was our youngest sister who had died so tragically many years, and God was assuring me of how He treasured her and wanted me to think of her.

But this was not the end of these attacks. For how could I ever dare to give a prophetic word again, in case it is just my mind playing tricks?

Godliness with Contentment

I was intending to write to a very special friend who is still enjoying independent living, although well on in her eighties. I wanted to reassure her by sharing something of my testimony and then I thought some of my faithful blog-readers might like to hear it too. But in any case, I know I will be blessed by looking back and remembering.

There are many promises of God that he will care for us in our old age, but when I had been sent to a heart specialist while living in the highlands of Papua New Guinea he had assured me I could live to a hundred I was more interested in living as a missionary for ten more years. When you are in your forties, a hundred seems a very long way away.

And I had no concern about providing for the future. I had closed my bank account in UK. Would doubtless get something when I sold my car. I had thought of offering my car to our Pastor at a reduced price, but then God told me to give as he had given to me. – I knew what that meant. I gave it to them.

God did give me the ten years as a single missionary abroad, where first in PNG and when that door closed, in Ghana I was known as ‘the Little Children’s Mother’, but home on furlough I met the husband God had promised me. Joel and Betty had experienced fruitful ministry in Africa for many years, but after Betty’s sudden and unexpected death God showed us both clearly that this was his provision for us both. Our years in pastorates in UK were fruitful and wonderfully happy. It was then God called me to write, and my children’s books were a key for me to be welcomed in the local Primary Schools.

I had five years as a pastor’s wife and then we came to Porthcawl to retire.

Neither Joel nor I had saved and given up good salaries to come into the ministry, but he was well loved by his aunts and then my mother’s death enabled us to buy our lovely dormer bungalow in Nottage, where I learned to live content even after Joel had preceded me to heaven.

He was preaching  up to two weeks before he died, full of faith  and joy. And God wonderfully enabled me, teaching Bible in the schools and preaching in several local churches. But aged 85 I knew I needed to give up the car, and the doctor suggested I should consider independent living in our wonderful new facilities in Stoneleigh.

It was soon after Joel died that the Lord gave me a wonderful gift in Ross to help me to make friends with my computer. He was a helper to so many of us in the church, and always so encouraging. When friends told me their grandsons helped them with their computers, instead of being sorry for myself that I had no grandchildren of my own I asked Ross if he minded if I adopted him as my Grandson. 

I believed God was showing me very clearly that this was a good move for me. I loved my flat, with a spare room for my computer and all my schools gear, and then phoned my financial advisor to see if I could afford this move.

No discussion. She phoned up Ross, and told him, ‘Pauline needs to move. Will you look after her?’ He has looked after me ever since, so that, having continued in the schools, and in good, though weakening health, aged ninety, he was there for me through all the trauma of a cardiac arrest. 

Decisions had to be made. Let’s go back a few years. Living in our bungalow in Nottage, I used to go and sit with an elderly neighbour while her daughter was at work. We continued as good friends until her mother was in need of nursing care and spent her last few weeks of her life in Pinehurst where I am now. It was through this contact that Joel and I  were welcomed in to take a little service with the residents.

But now no more was I up to independent living, but nor was I fit for decision making either. The ‘Grace’ ladies used to go in to visit, and a distinct memory came to me. A lovely friend who lived around the corner had said, ‘I wouldn’t mind ending my days here.’

I was amazed that she should say such a thing. I hadn’t thought about ending my days anywhere. But I needed to think about it now. They had warned me at the hospital that I might drop at any time and I soon learned that I was not safe on my own. 

So Ross agreed that we should visit Pinehurst. What a welcome I received from our lovely Alex when she realised that I had known her mother, and certainly happy to put me on her waiting list, but how many years might I have to wait before someone made room for me by dying. I prepared myself for a long wait, but within four months I was happily settled  in my lovely room, a stair lift installed and there in the corner, my computer.

‘Well, I won’t need that,’ I told Ross, but ‘You don’t know,’ was his gentle reply.

Even now I am often unable to write by hand because of my still very shaky hand, so now how grateful I am for my computer. Soon after I arrived I wrote a poem for one of our Carer’s grandson, and now everyone gets a poem for their birthday, and yes, the Biblical novel I had started when I was in good health, and had thought would never be completed, we are now trusting for a publisher.

So, with David I say, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, ….I lack no good thing.’ And confidently I share my testimony with my dear friends, who through long years have learned to prove the faithfulness the faithfulness of God.

A TIME TO DIE?

Don’t worry. I promise I will not make it depressing.

There is a verse somewhere in the Psalms about the years we live when we are over seventy are but labour and sorrow, but ours most certainly were not.

Joel was a theologian so he should know. He said that Psalm was written to those condemned to wander and die in the wilderness and not to us, but for those in Christ we can accept old age as a special reward.

His first wife, Betty, had worked beside Joel through times of revival in Nigeria, then later through years of warfare and hardship in what has now become Zimbabwe.

I had returned to U.K. expecting to return to Ghana, to hear that Joel’s Betty had died very suddenly. God led us in a plain path and I learned to fill my role as a pastor’s wife. It was soon after this that God called me to write, and between my call to work with the children and my books which had already given me a key to the local primary schools, when Joel died, 22 years ago, I was not left time to grieve. The schools were waiting.

But now I am in a care home and so, perhaps, acceptable to think about dying, but not to our wonderful carers. We have one 99 year old, looking forward to a wonderful celebration, but they encourage us all to continue to enjoy life.

I am so blessed to have a quiet day and am happily sitting in my ‘Eagle’s Nest’ with a flask of coffee as I have a special story I would like to share with you.

A friend had told her mother, You don’t have to be ill to die. And she wasn’t. She had been helping her daughter with the chores, enjoyed her dinner, sat back with her cup of tea and was gone.

Aged 93, and apart from bring unsteady on my feet living an active life, I hope I am not unprepared for God to call me home. Joel had been active, preaching up to a fortnight before he died. Yes, of course bereavement is painful, but God has been so good to me. ‘Grace Community Church,’

planted from Brackla is the fulfilment of Joel’s faith an obedience, has always been a loving family to me and ‘I have and am lacking no good thing’

But perhaps it is excusable that I have been thinking about dying, but it is not what God wants.

I have been feeling ‘poorly’ but so do lots of people my age, so off I went in the community bus for the lunch club. It was our gentle Pastor Clive who was preaching. He asked us what our last prayer might be before we got to heaven (or something like that). Oh. Surely I could answer this.

I found myself sitting in a queue to get to Jesus and then I was there. His arms were round me. I was in his arms, a wonderful Welsh ‘cwtch.’ He gave me a polish, ----- and then - Yes, he sent me back.

Oh, it is so wonderful to know that we are sent by Jesus. And that every day that we live is a special gift from God.

There are so many things I cannot do now, but thank God that I can sometimes, still write, and pray, be thankful for so many blessings and wonderful family and friends.

Pauline